Irish Whiskey
by DiaryOfLacey
Summary: Jessie's Irish roots run deep, they know that now. But the Irish Kings are preparing to show SAMCRO and the Teller family just how deep those roots go. With Jessie on the run and Jax in Belfast, will things ever be normal again? Sequel to Pictures & Memories. Jax/Jessie.
1. Chapter 1

_Westbrook, Montana_

 _Day 7_

The sun rose early, shining in the windows of the motel room and into Jessie's eyes. The now-brunette stretched, rubbing her eyes and attempting to turn over before she realized Abel was asleep on her arm. Thomas was on his other side, sleeping against the pillows she'd shoved between the bed and the wall to keep them from hitting the window. Blakely was on the other side in her playpen, still sleeping as well.

Today made a week since they'd left Tacoma, now holed up in this northern Montana hotel in some tiny town named Westbrook, where no one would know them until Jax came home from Ireland. Every time the phone rang, Jessie prayed it would be Jax calling to say he was back and ready to be with them. She still wasn't quite sure exactly what she was going to do next, but all she knew was that she was staying away from Charming and the Sons and all that Irish bullshit until her husband was back in her arms. Getting up from the bed after manuevering her son off her arm, Jessie checked her phone just as she always did, but there was no call from Jax, or Happy, or even Gemma. _Nothing at all._ Double checking that all her kids were still asleep, she silently picked up the motel room key and pulled a $20 from the thick envelope in her purse containing all the cash Jax had left her. She made sure the door was locked as she left the room, planning to run across the street to the small diner and get breakfast before the kids woke up. It was a short sprint across the two lane road, and the bells on the door rang happily as she entered. Every head in the place turned, clearly taking notice that a new face was in town. Trying to squash down the uneasiness that she felt, Jessie approached the counter, the buxom blonde behind the counter smiling through the red lipstick painted on her lips.

"Morning, darlin', how can I help you?" 'BRENDA' was printed in all caps on her nametag, and Jessie returned her smile.

"I just need two orders of pancakes and eggs. My kids are at the motel and I need to feed them." Pushing a twenty across the counter, Jessie waited as Brenda scribbled down her order, then punched a few buttons on the register before handing her back the change.

"Just give Earl back there about ten minutes and you should be ready to go. Have a seat while you wait, can I get you some coffee?" Brenda didn't give Jessie time to answer, already placing a red mug in front of her and filling it up with strong black coffee. "It's on the house, dear." She was then called away by another customer, leaving Jessie to sit and sip the bitter liquid from the cup. The scent filled her nose, reminding her of Jax and his love for terrible instant coffee. _God, she missed him._ _She couldn't wait for this Irish deal to be over with._

Her thoughts were interrupted as a tall man in a baseball hat sat down beside her, giving her a sly smile that told her he was after more than just breakfast. "Morning, beautiful, I don't think I've seen you around these parts before."

Giving him a nonchalant smile, Jessie kept her eyes on her coffee mug. "I'm just passing through. Here today, gone tomorrow."

"Sure you couldn't stick around a little? You seem like someone I'd like to get to know." Clearly he thought his cheesy lines would work on her, but Jessie was _not_ some small town girl to be sucked in by this bullshit. She _was_ married to Jax Teller, after all, and how was she supposed to be won over by small time lotharios when she had the best looking man on the West Coast?

She saw her order being bagged by Brenda at the other end of the bar, and she stood up with a polite smile as she held out her ring finger with her diamond ring sitting proudly. "Sorry, Romeo, but I'm married. Thanks for the breakfast conversation, though. Have a good day." She hurried to grab her bag from Brenda, and then she was rushing back across the road to the motel.

As soon as the door shut behind the brunette, the man in the baseball cap pulled a burner phone from his jeans pocket and quickly dialed a number. "Edward? Yeah, it's Kyle. She's in Westbrook. I just saw her at the diner, she's staying at the Rosewood Motel. All three kids are with her. Yeah, I'm sure it's Teller's old lady. Can't mistake that body." He laughed lowly, listening to what the man on the other end of the line was saying.

 _"Make sure you keep an eye on her. The Kings gave explicit orders to kill her. Teller and the Sons are here in Ireland, and when we've taken care of them I'll call you with the signal. Make sure she doesn't survive this time."_


	2. Chapter 2

_Day 12_

Westbrook, Montana

 _Nearly two weeks._ It had been nearly two weeks since she came to Montana.

Abel had asked her the day before when they were going home to Daddy, but she hadn't been able to answer him. She just kept holding out hope that Jax was soon coming home. In another week and a half it would be Abel's seventh birthday, and she dreaded the thought of celebrating his birthday in this town. Thomas was four now, and even Blakely was fast approaching her second birthday. Her babies were growing up, and it made her heart ache to know Jax was missing it.

It was currently nearing midnight, and all the kids had long since gone to sleep. Jessie sat by the window, counting up the cash she had left and staring at her silent phone on the windowsill as if willing it to ring. She put away the money in her purse and glanced over at the kids, Abel and Thomas cuddled together with Blakely in between them like they were protecting her. With a smile, Jessie got up to go and tuck the blanket closer around her kids, kissing each of their foreheads. _What had she ever done before she had children?_ At that exact moment, her phone began ringing, and she dashed to get it before it woke up the kids. "Hello, Jax?"

"Hi baby, how's it going?" Jessie could swear that his voice was the most wonderful thing she'd ever heard.

"Jax, you don't know how long I've been waiting to hear your voice. When are you coming home? Me and the kids miss you so much. Abel's dying to be with you on his birthday." _God, let him say he was on his way right now._

"I promise I'll be seeing you soon, babe." His voice sounded strange, but Jessie chose to ignore it because he was promising to come home. "Just don't give up on me, okay?"

 _That was definitely strange of him to say._ "Baby, are you okay? You don't sound okay."

"I'm fine, Jess. Just real tired. But I promise I'm gonna see you soon. I gotta go, but I'll call you again when I can. Love you, Jess. More than anything."

"Love you too, Jax. Always." She wanted to say more, to keep him on the line and just imagine he was there, but then there was a dial tone, and silence. _He was gone just like that._

Jessie tried to find comfort in his words, but it was hard to get past the weird tone of his voice. She had always been able to read Jax, to know what he was really feeling behind his charm and unpredictability and all the walls he'd built. She had always known him like the back of her hand, but tonight was an exception. Nothing was evident from his call except for the fact that there was clearly nothing she could do at this point, and so she sighed and got up to get ready for bed. In the bathroom, she flipped on the hot water, peeling off her clothes and taking a look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes trailed over the dark hair she'd given herself, her hands coming up to run through it. _This wasn't her. She was ready to be blonde and beautiful and happy with her husband again._ Trying to shake the thoughts from her mind, she turned and stepped into the shower, the steamy spray rushing over her and melting away some of her stress. Tiny black streaks of mascara ran down her chest as the water washed away her makeup, her long hair flattening down to her back. _Jax always loved sharing a shower with her. She could almost feel his rough hands on her, hands hardened by gun grips and handlebars and fistfights, ones that could still feel like silk when they were roaming over her body. He was her soulmate, the other half of her heart. God, she needed him. She needed him to be here and holding her and kissing their babies goodnight like he always did, no matter how late it was when he came home. She needed Jax more than anything else in this entire world._ Before she knew it, tears were mixing with the water pouring over her face, and she slowly sank down to sit on the floor of the shower. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she rested her forehead on her knees and cried.

She was a true student of Gemma, never one to show much emotion of her own and more equipped to handle others' feelings. Jessie had never been too good at facing her feelings, and since this shit had happened they had become overwhelming at times. She needed Jax, needed the stability he provided to her though he never truly realized that's what he was doing. Finally she decided this was enough of this sad shit, and she forced herself to get up and wash herself and her hair before turning the water off. Squeezing the water out of her hair, she dried off and went back into the room to dig one of Jax's T-shirts out of her bag. It smelled just like him as she pulled it over her head, and she breathed in his scent as she smiled. _There was her reassurance._ Nudging the kids over gently in the bed, she lay down and pulled the blanket up to cover them completely.

She was just settling down beside Thomas when the door to their room was roughly kicked open.

Masked men in black grabbed her by the arms, tying a gag around her mouth so that she couldn't scream. Her three children were still sleeping, a trait all of them had inherited from Jax. Jessie fought and kicked as hard as she could, but the men were stronger and one of them punched her soundly in the gut. It doubled her over, gasping for breath around the fabric in her mouth. Then she was being dragged outside, the men so skillful and quiet they barely disturbed the dirt of the parking lot. She was pushed into a waiting van, nearly rolling head over heels into the opposite wall of the vehicle. She tried to right herself and scream, but suddenly a sharp pain took over her head and everything went black.

Kyle tucked his gun back in the waistband of his dark jeans, settling down on the floor of the van beside the limp body of Teller's wife. Knocking her out would keep her quiet for the trip to the airstrip, where Edward and the other Irishmen were set to meet them and pick up Jessie. They had wanted her dead, but for some reason now they wanted her delivered to them. The kids would be taken to the nearest hospital and left with a note instructing whoever found them to call Gemma and have her come and pick them up, the real target of this mission being their mother. Kyle smiled at the thought of the reward he would be pocketing when they arrived at the airstrip.

 _Everything was going exactly as he had planned, and he couldn't wait to get the Irishmen's money._

At the airfield, a small private plane sat waiting, Edward and four other Irishmen waiting for Kyle's arrival. As promised, the black van pulled up at exactly 1:30, the door sliding open to reveal Teller's wife lying unconcious, her dark hair spread around her face. Stepping out, Kyle lifted her limp frame into his arms, carrying her over to the Irishmen.

"The plan wasn't to kill her anymore, Kyle." Edward glanced over Jessie, unsure if she was dead or not.

Kyle scoffed, rolling his eyes. "She's alive, man, I didn't kill her. Just had to knock her out. Teller's got a real fiesty little thing on his hands." He transferred Jessie into the arms of one of Edward's assistants, who took her towards the plane. "Now where's my money?"

Edward produced a thick manila envelope from the inside pocket of his suit coat, handing it over to Kyle. "The Irish Kings would like to thank you for your help." He waited until Kyle was almost back to the van before he pulled a gun from his waistband and shot him twice in the back. It was a brief moment before he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath his body as the envelope of cash skittered across the dirt. The other three men with him also pulled guns, finishing off the two men with Kyle. With a smile, Edward retrieved his money before leading his men towards the plane.

"Come gentlemen, we have a flight to Belfast to catch."


	3. Chapter 3

Jessie slowly opened her eyes, a pounding headache making her head feel like it was going to bust open. She tried to move, realizing that she was tied to a chair, the gag still in her mouth. It took a few minutes for the haze in front of her eyes to clear, her gaze settling on Edward. She knew him, remembered him from killing her brother. _The despicable scumbag._ She had no idea where she was or where her kids were or what was happening. But she was sure that Jax was _not_ going to be happy when he found out about this.

"Good morning, Mrs Teller, I see you're awake. You have some guests!" With a light laugh, Edward turned Jessie's chair around and whistled once. The warehouse door opened, and to Jessie's horrified surprise, there was Jax, along with the rest of the club, being led into the room with their hands tied behind their backs. They all stumbled clumsily, blindfolds tied over their eyes. Once they were in front of Jessie, they were shoved down on their knees, gagged and lined up like lambs at a slaughter. Jessie let out a choked sob as she saw her bloodied and bruised husband, clearly having taken a beating along with the rest of the guys. He met her eyes when their blindfolds were removed, giving her as much of a smirk as he could manage with his busted up face. Jessie wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry; she knew that Jax and the rest of the Sons were as tough as nails, but this beating looked worse than any other she'd ever seen him, or any of them, take. She studied the marks on his perfect face, the bruises and cuts and dried blood, and felt rage boil inside her. _The Irish would pay._ _And speak of the devil, there were the two remaining Irish Kings crossing the room to meet them._

The Kings stood in front of her, looking every inch the businessmen as they faced the brunette. They didn't waste time on pleasantries, going straight to business as Edward removed her gag. "We're prepared to make you a deal, Jessica. As you know, your husband and his little club decided it would be a good idea to kill Declan on their last excursion to our country. But after some careful consideration and a lot of mercy on our part, myself and Brendan have decided to spare their lives." Peter spoke first, one hand gesturing to the line of men behind him. "We'll let your husband and his men go free, on one condition." He paused and stepped closer to her, lifting her chin with a finger. "You're True IRA through your mother and father, Jessica. So all you have to do is agree to leave behind the Sons and give up your life as Jessica James. You'll come to Belfast and become a part of the IRA, and start a new life as Jessica O'Phelan. Join our cause and you can save their lives." Gesturing to Edward, Peter stepped aside as the henchman stepped over behind Jax and produced a knife, pressing it to her husband's throat. "In case you need a little encouragement."

"No! Don't hurt him!" She lunged for Jax, but the ropes around her ankles and wrists stopped her. To her horror, she saw Edward press the blade further into Jax's neck, a small trickle of blood beginning to drip down on the silver chain he always wore.

"Trying to help him will be fruitless, my dear. You'll just make sure he dies even more painfully." Peter's voice was full of humor, as if he found this the funniest thing in the world. "Now, we need an answer. If you agree to give up your life and join our cause, then your husband and his friends can go free, unharmed, and return to the States peacefully... where they will agree to _never_ return to Belfast or try to reach you." The last part of his statement was spoken to Jax, Peter giving the SAMCRO President a meaningful look. "Because if there is any attempt made at any contact between you and Mr. Teller, both you and he will die slowly for your troubles. And I'm sure there are plenty of Irish couples that would be overjoyed to adopt three little American children." The meaning of his words was clear, and Jessie was silent for a moment.

Her eyes flickered from the Irishman to Jax, his blue eyes meeting hers and silently begging her not to accept the deal. Tears began burning her eyes, and she bit her lip to keep from crying. She mouthed 'I'm sorry' to her husband before she turned to Peter and nodded. "I'll take the deal. Just let Jax and the boys go, please. Don't hurt them or my children, please." Her eyes went to the floor to avoid meeting Jax's, but she saw the way his shoulders slumped in defeat from the corner of her eye. _She had let him down_ , she knew, _but there was no way she was going to sit there and let some crazy Irishman stick a knife in his neck when she could do something about it. She was willing to sacrifice herself for the man she loved._

Her words clearly pleased the Irish King, Peter smiling and patting her shoulder like he was praising a child. "Wise choice, Jessica." His grip then shifted to her arm, his fingers digging into her skin as another man untied the ropes around her, and then Peter was dragging her towards the door. "Come along, we have more important matters to attend to."

"What? No, let me go!" Jessie tried to pull her arm away, but it was no use. Peter's grip was unfaltering.

"No, dear, you made your decision. Your life with Jackson is over now."

Jessie began crying, trying to pull away and go back to Jax. She could hear him struggling to get to her as well, but the Irishmen's henchmen and the effects of horrible beatings meant he and the Sons couldn't do much to help. Watching them drag her away broke his heart and hurt him more than any of the beatings had. He hadn't seen her in so long, not since he'd sent her to Tacoma with Happy. She was brunette now, but dear God she was still the same devastatingly beautiful woman he had always loved.

Once the steel door at the other end of the room shut, Edward untied the gag from Jax's mouth, the President of the MC silent as he stared at the floor and watched his own blood drip to the cement. Edward laughed perversely at him, nudging him with his foot. "What's the matter, Jackson, nothing to say now, eh?" Jax could feel the rage burn in his chest, the sadness turning to pure rage that this had happened and his wife had been forced to make the decision she had. Not minding the ties on his hands, Jax suddenly barreled up from the floor, catching Edward off guard and knocking him to the ground with his shoulder. For lack of any other way to inflict pain, Jax began headbutting him, paying no mind to the pain he was causing to himself.

 _Nothing compared to the pain of losing Jessie yet again._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I totally made up the thing about the father's and mother's last names being reversed as a sign of disrespect in this. I don't know if it's actually a true thing that happens or not but for the purposes of this story, it's fiction! *Also YES, Unser is still alive in my little universe!***

Jessie spent the night in some dingy Irish safehouse, surrounded by members of the IRA with guns. _She missed Jax so much_. Peter had told her tomorrow she would receive her new Irish birth certificate and someone would be coming to help her and be her "companion" as she adjusted to her new life. She instead prayed that Jax and the club were safe and that her kids were safe and with their family. Finally falling asleep sometime around three or four a.m., she slept fitfully until she was gently shaken awake to sunshine in her eyes. She blinked rapidly until the face in front of her cleared, an older olive-skinned woman with kinky black hair.

"Morning, darling, I'm Fiona. I'm to help you become a member of our Cause." Thick Irish brogue filled her ears, and Jessie half-smiled. This woman seemed familiar, and then she remembered the stories Gemma had told her about Chibs' ex-wife.

"You're Chibs' wife?" Fiona nodded shortly at her words, as if not wanting to spend time discussing the subject.

"Aye. But we won't worry about that now, we haven't got time to discuss husbands. C'mon, we've got to get to the salon to do something about your hair, and then to the shops. We haven't time to waste!" Fiona ushered her outside to a waiting car, driven by a man that Jessie assumed was IRA, and then they were traveling the winding cobbled streets of Belfast. When she had been in Ireland before, she'd never stopped to really look at it, but now she allowed herself a brief moment to acknowledge the beautiful scenery of the place, though it was a bit dreary. But there was still a threatening air that hung around like an old cloak, violence lurking around every shadow corner they passed. She had always been familiar with violence, it was certainly nothing new to her considering the life she had, but now it was something completely different. This wasn't Tara trying to kill her over petty jealousy, this wasn't a Chinese maid she had to kill to protect her children, this was so much more. _This was life altering._ She was being taken away from everything she'd ever known, and shoved into a new way of living that felt all wrong. She was an outlaw's wife, queen of a motorcycle club, an occupant of a fringe town and its' slightly-offbeat way of life. Now she was expected to become some sort of soldier for a cause she knew nothing about and most likely didn't care about.

She was pulled from her thoughts as Fiona nudged her, giving her a warm smile. "The Kings sent this for you." The older woman offered her a manila envelope, which Jessie hesitantly took and opened. Inside was a crisp new birth certificate, identical to the one she'd been presented with months before the first time she'd come to Belfast. "You'll have to get used to being Jessica O'Phelan. From now on, you can never answer to Jessie James or Jessie Teller again, the Kings've killed for less. Never mention your husband or your children's names, and never speak of anything from home that could give away who you really are." She paused a moment, seeing the look in Jessie's eyes. "I know you love your husband, dear, you wouldn't be here if you didn't. But you've got to put him out of your mind. It'll be hard, I had to do the same with Filip. Just remember you're ensuring his safety and that of the club through your actions." Fiona watched Jessie look over the birth certificate, the younger woman's eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"Why's it say Jessica Pamela O'Phelan-McKilligan? I thought my last name was supposed to be O'Phelan?"

With another of those comforting smiles, Fiona explained. "It will be, dear, most everyone around here still remembers who Jimmy O was an' what his influence was. But he was branded a traitor, and puttin' your mother's name after his on your birth certificate is one of the few remainin' ways the Kings can disrespect him in a traditional Irish way. It's a show of disrespect to him, like saying they regard him as lower than a female. But it's also a way to show that you come from _two_ important Irish families. Pammy's father, Samuel, was a King too at one point. You've inherited power in the IRA from your mother's family and your father earned the same on his own accord. That's the only reason you aren't dead as a doornail right now, being that you come from such prestigious Irish breedin'. The Kings will keep you happy an' settled and comfortable as long as you do what they want. That's why I'm telling you the things I'm telling you. Your cooperation is the difference between a decent life and being sent back to California in a body bag and buried next to your husband." Turning her attention to the driver of their car, Fiona tapped his shoulder. "Caleb, stop us here!"

The car came to a stop in front of a store with mannequins filling the window, and Caleb came around to open the door for the two women.

"Come along, Jessica, we've got to get you some things for your new life."

 _Rage was all he could feel._

After being forced to return home, Jax had been brewing since their departure from the tiny private plane that had carried them back to Charming. _All the shit he and Jessie had went through the past few years, everything the Irish had done to them in the previous months, he finally understood. He understood the fixation on his wife now, understood why she was always the target of the attacks and never him. It wasn't a ploy to get to him, it was a ploy to return the daughter of Jimmy O'Phelan to her homeland and have her join the Cause her father had championed. A setup to have her become part of something bigger than the Sons, a part of something that had been in her blood all her life and that she'd just never known until now. It had never been about him or his club or the illegal things they did. It had always been about her, and now the Irish had gotten what they wanted. They had finally taken things so far that Jessie had to give in to what they wanted. They had threatened her life, tried to kill her, taken away first her mother, then her father and her brother. They had done everything they could to break her and nothing had worked until they dared to threaten the life of the one person they knew she could never give up. The Kings had threatened to kill him and that was one thing that Jessie could never let happen._

 _The Kings had forced her hand and they had won._

His mind had been turning over and over the entire plane ride, and even now his thoughts were racing a hundred miles a minute. _There had to be a way he could reverse this, a way to get her back._ Gemma had been blowing up his phone as soon as they were flying over the States, and he had finally answered to her screaming about the kids. She'd gotten a call they had been left anonymously at a hospital in Montana with a note to call their Grandma Gemma in California. _Apparently she was driving ninety-three miles an hour right now on her way to rescue her babies while Rat and Unser tried to keep up behind her._ She would call him once she had gotten the kids. _How could he let this happen?_ Like he'd actually wanted his wife taken away by some Irish assholes and his kids most likely traumatized and have yet _another_ thing to assault his mind when all he wanted was some goddamn peace.

He led the line of men into the clubhouse, Chibs, Tig, and Happy all filing in behind him, each one of them bruised and battered and ready for a drink. Jax would give them that, at least; after all, they hadn't asked to be nearly beaten to death and be dragged around the world because Jax hadn't known the whole truth about his wife. He loved Jessie, of course he did, but being beaten up and not sleeping and criss-crossing the globe what seemed like every other week was getting to him and making him think things he shouldn't.

 _What if he let her go?_

 _What if he didn't try to go after her?_

 _What if he sacrificed Jessie to the Irish for the sake of peace?_

 _Was he really that much of a monster?_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I took a little inspiration from Season 3, where Jax was all screwed up after losing Abel, and that's where most of the inspiration for his part of the chapter came from. As always, please read and review and let me know what you think! Please leave any ideas or comments for me in the reviews! - Lacey**

 _The apartment that Fiona told her was hers now was small, barely the size of the ice cream shop the club had temporarily moved into while they rebuilt the clubhouse. Jessie constantly seemed to be banging into a counter or a wall or a chair, lost in a house that was unfamiliar as the landscape outside her tiny windows. At least she had her blonde hair back. Fiona had taken her into the salon and demanded the stylist turn Jessie's hair back to its' honey blonde. Made her look more like her mother had been the older woman's words, and Jessie agreed for once because she was just happy to feel more like her old self again._

"You don't have to hide, darlin'. This is your home now and the Kings aren't expectin' ya to walk around trying to hide who ya are, you just have a new name. They want people to know they took Jax Teller's wife away an' that they have ya back where yer mother tried to keep you from. Like a trophy."

 _Like a trophy._ Those three words kept echoing around Jessie's mind, banging angrily against her skull as more fuel for her rage. _A trophy, huh? She was nobody's fucking trophy. She was simply biding her time until she could figure a way out of this shit that kept her and Jax both alive._ But she bit her tongue and looked the other way so that Fiona couldn't see the angry flush that spread over her cheeks as she let the older woman out the front door. Once the door was securely shut and locked, Jessie leaned against the faded wood and let out an angry breath she hadn't realized she was holding. _At least she finally could be by herself for a moment._ The Kings had kept Fiona glued with her the past three days, making sure she wouldn't try to contact Jax or try to find a way to get to him, but Jessie wasn't that stupid. _It wasn't the time now for her to try to reach Jax. That would come._ But now they were reassured she was committed, and so she was slowly being allowed moments of peace to herself. Flopping down on the worn couch, she stared up at the ceiling as thoughts clouded her mind. The Kings had won, had gotten exactly what they wanted. She saw now that this had been their game plan all along, all the way back to the time Galen O'Shay's henchman put her in the hospital. _They had wanted her back, an IRA possession stolen all those years ago by her mother._ First they drove her mother to her death, then took away Jimmy- her father- and then Weston. Anyone who stood in the way of them retrieving their stolen girl had been disposed of, and they had known that threatening Jax would be the straw that broke the camel's back, that would make her finally come back home. _Had Jax also figured this out by now?_ He probably had, he was always quick to see a plot in something. She wished fervently that she could call him up on the phone and ask him.

She didn't even understand what the purpose of her being here in Belfast was. She couldn't exactly go out and become a member of the Irish Kings, and certainly they weren't going to send her out selling guns like her father had? So what exactly was she supposed to be doing other than sitting around looking pretty and carrying the last names of two of the IRA's most prestigious families? She supposed that would be addressed the next time the Kings saw her, or maybe she would ask Fiona. _Fiona was sure to know._ For now, she would drink her worries away. There was a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet, and she poured herself a glass and downed half in one go. _There now, that was better._ She poured another, sitting herself down at the table and pulling a ring from her pocket. It was her engagement ring and wedding band from Jax, one of the few things that the Kings had allowed her to bring. Perhaps they thought it posed no risk, that maybe she would sell it or some such. A set of rings wasn't a phone to dial home with, and so she slipped them onto her finger and twisted them around. She wondered if Jax was still wearing his ring, or if he was too drunk to remember to put it on by now. She hoped that the boys were looking after him, that Gemma had gotten the kids and that they were all safe. It felt like shit, being stuck here like a caged lion, unable to do anything or know anything except that she was here and had no way to leave.

 _She had no way of knowing she was right._

The golden band sat on the nightstand of his dorm room, catching sunlight when Gemma kicked the door in. "Jackson Teller!" He barely moved as she stepped over his discarded clothes, her son passed out across the bed in just his boxers. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor and three were keeping him company in the bed, an ashtray holding what had to be three packs worth of stubbed out cigarettes and several crushed joints balanced on a chair at his bedside. The entire room stunk with the mixed scent of an unwashed man and three days worth of pain-numbing smoke and alcohol. _This was worse than when they lost Abel to Belfast._ She knew Jax had been unable to go home, unable to look at the house he and Jessie shared, so she'd went by and picked up some clean clothes for him and now she was here looking at him in this mess. _She could slap the shit out of him._ He was the goddamn President of this club, and Chibs had been trying to handle business as much as he could. This time as Jax self-destructed, there was no Clay to keep the club up. Chibs was trying, but he wasn't the President. _Jax should know better than to do this shit again,_ Gemma thought angrily, _he should know everyone is feeling this._ He hadn't been the only one beaten like an animal; she was still tending the wounds of the other club members. He should know this was _everyone_ , not just him. But no, he was acting like his damned father and turning into a self-destructive little weakling.

She walked over and slapped him roughly in the back of the head, the action doing absolutely nothing to wake him. "Damn you, Jax, always wanting to go off the fucking rails. Times like this I need Opie to toss your ass out the door." She stepped back to the open dorm room door, banging her fist against the paneled wall. "Happy, Chibs, get in here now!" The two men appeared in a flash, quick to notice the tone of Gemma's voice. Pointing to the limp frame of her son, she nodded her head in the direction of the shower. "Get his ass up now and throw him in the shower. Turn on the water as cold as you can and let him sit a while. I've got to clean this shit up." Her orders were stern, and the Vice President and the Seargeant-at-Arms did as told. They got Jax up from the bed, dragging him across the carpet into the bathroom. Chibs turned the cold water on, Happy slipping Jax's arm from around his shoulders and sitting him down on the bottom of the shower as carefully as he could.

"Alright, Jackie boy, you've gotta get it together. We've gotta go and get the lass." Chibs took Jax's chin in his hand, gently shaking the President's head to try and get him awake. The cold water was doing its' job, Jax was rousing, but he was so full of alcohol and weed that Chibs wasn't sure he knew what his name was right now. The Scotsman could only thank God that Gemma hadn't found Jax balls deep in some other girl; the state he was in could've easily led to him straying. Chibs was grateful he wouldn't have to be cleaning blood up, because that was surely to have been the result if another girl had been gracing Jax's bed. He and Happy watched as the water soaked Jax's hair, poured over his body, and slowly brought him back to life. After a few moments, he seemed to feel them watching him, his blue eyes coming up to meet theirs.

"What, you come for the free peep show, boys?" There it was, a hint of his humor showing up.

"If we wanted a show, Jackie boy, we'd have picked someone with a lot more to look at. I'd clean up, your ma's lookin' ready to kill." They left him to the shower, passing quietly by Gemma in the dorm room as she cleaned and cussed beneath her breath.

The water ran over Jax, clearing some of the haze he'd created in his head. Looking back now, the liquor and the weed might not've been the best idea, but it was something to numb the pain. He was spinning in a dark hole, not sure which way was up or down or out of this shit. All he wanted was to go to Belfast and beat the shit out of every single Irish prick he could get his hands on and then bring his Jessie home. _If only it was that fucking simple._ He would get this taken care of, he knew that he always found a way to make things turn out his way, but this was a ball game that he felt unsure he could win. The Real IRA were a dangerous bunch, something even larger and harder to go against than the Sons. It would be a bloody war- and Jax knew it was going to be war when he went to get his wife- and he worried that they might not survive this. _He sure could use some of Opie's advice right now._ The last time they'd faced off with the Irish, Clay had been here, someone with more of a bloodthirst and a vicious wit than Jax could say he had. He needed guidance, he needed someone to tell him what the next logical move would be. But now, he had to do it for himself. He had to figure out what to do now that a whole club of men in leather kuttes was looking to him to lead them into battle.

Like the Knights of the Round Table, waiting for King Arthur to give them orders.

 _It was time for the king to take up his sword and lead his soldiers to the fight._

 _Belfast was about to get bloody._


End file.
